Impossible To Endure
by PurpleCryingDaisy
Summary: Norrington does something horrible… prequel to A Deserved Death.Warnings: Some gore. Definite deathfic. May be a little predictable but still, enjoy : rated M just to be safe.


Hi again :)

Thanks to Mithrellas91 who was kind enough to review my last story, A Deserved Death, to which this is the prequel :)

Disclaimer: All characters used here are owned by Disney. I'm not making any money off this.

Summary: Norrington does something horrible… prequel to A Deserved Death.

Warnings: Some gore. Definite deathfic. May be a little predictable but still, enjoy.

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Norrington looked out over the beach. The warm sunset touched every grain of sand, glinted off the water. He stood nobly and straight-faced across from the new married couple as they indulged in their first kiss as man and wife.

Wife. Turner was kissing his wife. A woman who by all rites should be Norrington's. Who was it who brought her to the Caribbean in the first place? Who was it who had been in negotiations with her father for her hand since he first became captain?

His fists clenched as they began to walk down the isle. Cheers, congratulations and even an early toast from Mr Sparrow accompanied heir exit. Norrington tipped his hat to them as was expected, with a congratulatory smile. That night, he thought, they would be having a small reception. Oh how he wish he couldn't go. How he wished he had some excuse. He rubbed his temples, hoping he felt the beginning of a migraine there. No such luck. He would have to attend. Attend and be happy for them. His fists clenched tighter.

As he left his seat, Gillette joined him.

"A lovely wedding Sir, yes?" came his attempt at casual conversation

"Indeed." Was Norrington's curt reply

Realising his mistake, he tried to rectify it quickly "I'm sorry sir. I didn't think… will you be quite content attending the reception? Or would you prefer me to make your excuses…"

Norrington merely shook his head. Pursing his lips for a moment as he thought, he then assured him that he would be fine, and that indeed he wanted to give the couple his best wishes and warmest regards. He returned to his accommodations for a while, to ready himself for later.

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The reception was already in full swing when Norrington arrived. With people having left their weapons at the door, especially those of questionable character, the whole event seemed positively light-hearted. Courtly dancing, dignified amounts of alcohol (for most attendees, he silently noted as Sparrow half fell into a nearby fountain) and above all the obvious attendance of the happy couple. All the clichés lined up before him to rub salt into his reopened wounds. And here was the biggest cliché of all… the happy new bride… coming towards him. Oh dear God…

"Commodore! How nice to see you! I had wondered if your attendance was to be expected sir…" Elizabeth began. The rest of the conversation was something of a blur as he listened to her lilting voice. So cultured, so delicate…

"Don't you agree Commodore?" came Will's voice, piercing through the pleasurable haze Norrington had allowed to form around his senses.

"Oh. Oh yes of course." Was his automatic reply as he took Wills hand in a firm handshake "Indeed"

The couple moved off to mingle a little more with their guests, leaving the Commodore behind once more. Swine, he thought. Swine for taking that glorious woman from me. You are no more deserving, maybe even less so, than I. Commoner. Blacksmith. Uncouth peasant.

His hand flew to his temples once more. He rubbed slow circles to soothe his angry mind. It didn't work.

Gillette approached him from behind.

"Pardon Sir, but you seem tense. Might I suggest you take a moment outside to collect yourself? I'm sure I can fill in anyone on your location"

Norrington thanked him. Giving him a grateful half-smile, he slipped out to walk quietly around the back of the venue for some air, picking up his hat and sword along the way, in case a quick exit was required.

He left the bustle of the party behind him, and ventured into the relative chill of the Caribbean evening. The happiness he heard from the people within made him feel sick to the stomach. The searing pain that had been lingering in the bottom of his chest for the entire evening moved slowly upwards to grip his heart, and finally force the pain level high enough to make him spill his angry tears. It was the first time it had truly hit him that Elizabeth was gone. Forever out of his reach, no chance of any last minute change of plans now that the last minute had passed.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back slightly, trying to force the tears back, but the sheer strength of the ragged sobs that tore straight from his soul ensured that was impossible. Giving up, he slumped forward, leaning with both hands on a nearby wall and crying his heart out.

He remained in the same position for several minutes, unmoving save for the jerks and spasming gasps for air the sobs forced from him. He didn't hear the tap-tap-tapping of feminine steps nearby, nor did he hear them stop a respectable distance away. Eventually he felt he had no more tears left to cry. Breathing deeply, he gathered himself once again, but rather than re-enter the party, he decided to make his way swiftly home. There didn't seem much point in remaining.

Turning, he saw for the first time Miss Swann… Mrs Turner rather. He seethed inwardly at that small fact.

"Elizabeth!" he broke the silence that had been building. "Congratulations once again…"

"I saw you leave Commodore." She said with a straight face "And I saw your pain here." She moved closer towards him, and put a hand on his arm. "Does this truly bring that much sorrow for you?"

Norrington lowered his head. He considered his answers carefully… he did not wish to damage their fledgling marriage, despite his own feelings.

"It pains me to see you in the arms of another man, Mrs Turner" (he ground out her new title between clenched teeth) "But the pleasure of seeing you happy far outweighs my personal objections. As long as Mr Turner makes you happy, and provides for you and your future offspring, then I am happy that you are with him."

Elizabeth smiled at him. He smiled back, for the first time that night, and Norrington realised that even though what he had said had been for Elizabeth's benefit and he had meant very little of it, he should still feel extremely happy for her. He'd loved her, and he'd set her free. And it had worked. She had found her happiness.

"Commodore, on behalf of my future family and myself, let me show my gratitude for your kind words and years of protection." Came Elizabeth's surprising next words, as she leant into Norrington for a kiss.

Norrington soon found himself swept up in the moment, kissing her back. Not a kiss of a particular depth or passion, it was still his first and last taste of his lady. It was a shame then that her new husband caught them in the act, and naturally assumed foul play.

Norrington spotted him over Elizabeth's shoulder just as he lunged for him, fists raised. Spinning Elizabeth out of the way so she landed perched against the wall, Norrington drew his sword and drove it home, running Will through.

He stopped, impaled. His fists dropped to his stomach as the blood flowed, and his knees gave way as Norrington let go of the hilt and Elizabeth ran screaming to his side.

"Will! Oh God, Will!" she screamed as she caught him on the way down. "Will!"

"Elizabeth, go for help!" Said Norrington, recovering from the shock and removing his coat to cover Will "I've dealt with wounds like this before in combat. Run, I'll help as best I can."

Picking up her skirts Elizabeth ran from the scene, afraid to leave Will but even more afraid to not bring help. She trusted Norrington's skills more than her own, and that was all that made her refuse her instincts to stay.

With Elizabeth gone, Norrington knelt by Wills head, putting his hand underneath… and grabbing a handful of hair.

"Listen up, Turner. You have been the bain of my existence. A thorn in my side. My biggest source of problems apart from Mr Jack Sparrow. But at least he had the presence of mind not to steal away my romantic destiny. You Mr Turner were not so smart" He stood up and drew his sword out of the wound "and now you will regret what you did!"

Norrington first struck a wild blow across his shoulder, then his thigh. Will gasped in pain, mouth opening and shutting like a suffocating fish on the shore. More slashes and stabs followed, causing Will yet more agony, until a merciful blow cut across his throat and ended it all relatively quickly. In his anger, Norrington did not notice the fatal slash, and kept wildly swinging the blade, his sword training forgotten in his rage. Slashes turned to thrusts, and Norrington found himself having to pry the cold metal from between his victim's ribs more than once. Blood splattered his once pristine uniform, the marks on his clothes mirroring those on his soul as the frenzied officer came to the end of his ferocious movements. He slowed, and one particularly nasty splatter of gore hit him in the face, from his right eyebrow to the left of his chin. It forced him back to consciousness, and he realised what he had done.

No longer could it be seen as self defence. No longer was it an accident, or a response trained into his military mind. Now it was a foul and malicious act, perpetrated by a lunatic. Norrington snarled and spat on the corpse. What insanity had pushed him to such an act? He had lasted all through the evening feeling nothing but sadness, not anger, and now he had stooped to this in a moment of inexplicable jealous fury…

He was a dead man. He knew it. His best chance was to run. Become a fugitive. Perhaps escape? He thought very little of his chances. But he had to try.

All that Elizabeth and the doctor found when they returned was a man lying dead, or what was left of him. Gillette followed the pair, and was the person to comfort her as she turned away from the horrible remains of her husband of only a few hours, and wept. The remaining military personnel soon arrived, and the rest of the wedding party. As he realised what he must do, Gillette could not help but wish he could not see the Commodore's sword lying blood covered by the wayside a few meters away, and the trail of footprints heading off in the same direction. He wished that he was not one of the men who would have to hunt the Commodore down.


End file.
